


Из огня да в полымя

by SumiArana



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, F/M, Forced Breeding, Nicholai is a sadist so buckle up, Rape, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumiArana/pseuds/SumiArana
Summary: She only let her guard down for a split second really; but now she was staring down the barrel of Nicholai's gun.
Relationships: Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Jill Valentine
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	Из огня да в полымя

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was based on a prompt I got on my curiouscat.me "JillxNicholai, handcuffs" and then furthered out by Jackie AKA @MrsAlbertWeskar. I really have been itching to write something like this and I like how it came out.
> 
> This is not sweet or loving, there is no love or care. This is rough and dirty and Jill doesn't enjoy it much. 
> 
> Title is Russian for 'Out of the frying pan and into the fire'. I settled for 'возлюбленный' as a pet name because (according to google) it means 'Sweetheart' but one of it's other meanings is Valentine.

Jill slumped at her desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office, hoping to rest for a moment. She’d been running since that _– thing –_ burst through her apartment wall. Her legs hurt. Her lungs hurt. She just needed a minute to breathe. She’d found herself at the RPD before even processing where she was. It was like she was on autopilot; she knew the RPD would be safer than the city streets if she needed to catch her breath.

She dug through her desk, fishing out a couple of loose handgun bullets rolling around in the bottom of one of her drawers. She took this quiet moment to pop them into her magazine, counting how many she had left before she ran out. She thought about how much gunpowder she’d salvaged, doing the math in her head of how many bullets she could make.

She let her guard down after a few moments of silence; no zombies or lickers skittering outside the door, no heavy footsteps followed by the growl of the monster pursuing her. She decided to take a look around the office just in case there was any heavy artillery left behind. She set her gun down on her desk. She’d been in this office practically daily for the last year and a half; as long as she listened for footsteps she would be fine.

She couldn’t help but look over Chris’s desk next, shifting around some of the many papers on the surface. She was glad he wasn’t in the city anymore but the photograph of him with his boyish grin still made her heart ache. She missed him. She found herself staring wistfully at the belongings left behind, wondering if she should grab his favorite jacket as it was mounted on the wall.

She heard the door open behind her and her stomach dropped. She moved as quickly into the armory as her tired legs would carry her, pressing her back up against the furthest wall and covering her mouth with her hand. She tried to keep her breathing as calm as possible. She hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps which meant it wasn’t the monster, but she didn’t think it was a zombie either. They sounded human. There was a possibility it was Brad; she hadn’t seen him since they had gotten separated in the bar. It could’ve been Kevin Ryman or Rita Phillips or any of the officers from around the RPD scavenging for supplies. But still, she stayed silent and hidden out of sight.

Footsteps echoed as whoever it was explored the room. Whoever it was, they weren’t small. They seemed to have a wide gait and some weight to their footsteps. She could hear what sounded like bullets or metal clinking together, as though they were rolling around pockets. The footsteps drew nearer to the armory and Jill cursed silently.

Before she knew it, she was face to face with the barrel of a pistol. The man holding it sneered and it took her a moment to register his face. UBCS Sargent Nicholai Zinoviev.

“Just who I’ve been looking for. Come, Valentine.”

_Fuck._ She held her hands up with her palms facing him to show she was unarmed. Even after all of the training and the first incident, she’d led her judgement lapse and left the gun on her desk. She obeyed, walking out in front of him, all the while keeping her hands up. She didn’t want to get shot here. Not now. She still had a chance to make it out of the city and she wasn’t going to give that up.

“Ah, starting to understand self-preservation?” The man smiled but it was far from kind.

“What do you want, Nicholai?” Jill tried to seem as amiable as possible. She didn’t want to find out how intent he was on pulling the trigger. She’d seen him do it already once before, so she knew he was capable.

“I wanted to see if my lesson was sinking in yet.” He answered simply. His smile didn’t waiver. He had something dark behind his eyes, something that made Jill’s blood run cold. “How far are you willing to go to save yourself, _возлюбленный_?”

Jill pressed her backside against the edge of her desk, still facing him. She tried to keep a poker face, slowly feeling around for her pistol she’d left there. Her free hand hovered over the top button on her tank, hoping to distract him long enough to re-arm herself. She knew she could get a shot off before he did if she could just get her Samurai Edge.

“I wouldn’t.” Nicholai warned as he chambered a bullet, taking a step closer to her. “Hands up.”

Jill winced lightly and did as she was told, bringing her hands back up. She watched him lean over her with a grimace, retrieving her gun. He dropped the freshly filled magazine out of it, tossing the gun on Chris’s desk as the clip hit the ground and bullets scattered.

“Strip.” He commanded, pressing the barrel of the gun to her shoulder hard enough to move it. She thought briefly about the flash bang in one of her pockets, wondering if that was worth the risk. If it didn’t work, though, she was pretty certain he was going to shoot her dead where she stood. She decided it wasn’t worth the risk and decided to submit.

She started to strip for him, her tank the first thing to go. She pulled it over her head, letting it drop at her feet unceremoniously. She could already see the layer of grime accumulating on her skin. Next came her bra, fingers shaking as she tried to grasp the closure. Finally the clasps came loose and it joined her shirt on the ground. She bent down to undo her boots next.

“Leave them.”

Jill murmured something under her breath, pushing her jeans down as far as they would go instead. It somewhat constricted movement of her legs and she was sure he wanted it that way. She stood before him in only her panties, her arm covering her breasts. Her face was hot but she wasn’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment.

“Those too.” He waved the gun towards her crotch.

“Fuck you.”

He sneered and she swore she saw something animalistic in him.

“Don’t worry, you will.”

“I’m not letting you touch me.” She didn’t move, staring him down.

“I worry you think this is a negotiation.” He leaned in close to her, firing the gun into the ceiling twice. The bullets discharging so close to Jill made her jump, but it wasn’t until he pressed the hot barrel to her bare thigh that the gravity of the situation sunk in. The white hot pain erased every thought of disobedience from her mind.

She yelped and pushed away from him the best she could. She felt the skin bubble up almost immediately where her skin had burned from the hot metal. She felt her heart in her throat, tears burning her eyes.

“Fuck. Fine!” She pushed her panties down past her knees in a fluid motion, looking at the angry red mark Nicholai had caused her. No doubt it was going to scar and she was going to have to carry a reminder of this asshole on her body for the rest of her life. She watched him as he reached for Chris’s jacket, throwing it down on the desk behind her. It made a soft clinking noise as something metal in the pockets met the desk.

“I _am_ a gentleman,” Nicholai sneered again, leaning forward and inspecting the pockets for a moment. He withdrew a pair of steel handcuffs that she recognized as Chris’s. She felt the color drain from her face as he held them up. He couldn’t help but grin at his fortune. “Hands up, Valentine.”

She hesitated for a second, eyes drifting from his features to the gun before she did as she was told, outstretching her arms above her head. She felt the cool metal tighten around her wrists. He made sure to click them tight enough to dig into her flesh. He slipped the keys into his pocket.

“Sit.” He clasped the chain of the cuffs, guiding her body until she sat. She could feel the soft leather of Chris’s favorite jacket against her skin. It should have been comforting but it was anything but. She felt the cool metal of Nicholai’s handgun press against the inside of her legs, urging her to open them. She opened them the best she could, still tangled in her pants and boots. He held fast to the handcuffs, taking a moment to undo her boots now that she couldn’t run.

He unzipped them with surprising care, dropping one on the ground beside her and then the other. Next came her jeans, pulled inside out as they caught around her ankles. He left her mismatched socks on.

“You’re going to put your heels against the desk. Understood?”

She spread her legs for him, her face burning hot. She screwed her eyes shut in an attempt to block him out. She tried to picture someone else, anyone else in his place; Chris after one too many beers, the neighbor she used to fuck when she was feeling particularly lonely, even her Captain Wesker.

“No, no. Look at me.” He yanked upwards on her wrists, causing the metal to dig into her further. She yelped and forced her eyes open, finding him inches away from her face. In the time she’d closed her eyes, he’d pulled himself out of his pants. He was hard. Uncircumcised, Jill couldn’t help but notice. She swallowed hard.

“Please.” She begged one last time, hoping he would change his mind and stop all of this. This isn’t what she thought it would take to get out of Raccoon City alive. Her eyes darted over his shoulder and she saw Chris’s photograph on her desk, feeling tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

Nicholai rubbed the wide head of his cock against her – bare. It was slightly slick already, pre-cum smearing over her lower lips as he pressed his sex against hers. The tip slid past her opening, slowly. She grit her teeth, praying he would just get it over with. He took his time though, pressing into her painfully slow. She could feel every inch of his prick stretching her, aching with that familiar burning sensation. The lack of arousal on her end made him feel even larger than he was. She hated it.

He bit into her shoulder with bruising force as he bottomed out inside of her. He bucked his hips inside, driving himself even deeper. She cried out, a slight cramp forming in her lower stomach as he applied pressure at the base of her womb.

“That hurts,” She growled through grit teeth. She was fully aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks at this point, not able to do anything to stop them.

“I know.” He responded matter-of-factly. He knew his movements caused her pain; he relished it. He could feel her shudder with every roll of his hips. Despite her protests, he felt her begin to grow slick around him. It made his thrusts easier, though the delicious burn of the friction started to lessen.

Within moments, his cock was thoroughly coated in her juices. It moved within her much easier. He couldn’t help but call attention to the heat building in her core.

“You like this?” He sneered, his thumb brushing against her clit once. “Being fucked on your desk? I am sure you’ve always wanted this, to be taken advantage by one of your teammates?” He growled into her ear, sinking into her particularly deep and staying still. He flexed, straining against her cervix again. “Maybe even your boss? Wearing a tight little skirt and feeling eyes on you, wishing they would hike it over your hips and take you here?”

A strangled cry as he drew out only to plunge back inside. She could hear how wet she was, cursing her body silently for betraying her. The pain mingled with pleasure, purely physical. The fact that it was Nicholai providing this made her feel sick.

“You’re a motherfucker,” She growled as he began to gain speed. His moves were fluid. He’d bottom out inside of her only to withdraw and repeat the process over and over again. She could tell by his uneven breathing and the sweat beginning to form on his brow what his end game was.

“Ah, is that the direction you want this to go, Valentine?” He growled back, his scruff scratching her face. “You want to feel my seed inside of you?”

A wave of panic hit her. He wasn’t wearing a condom. She had no doubt in her mind that he wasn’t bluffing. Her mind began to race. She began to struggle again, trying to squirm away. Chris’s jacket bunched beneath her as she moved. The older man sneered, pulling her arms up hard again. She yelped, a shock of pain as she felt the cuffs dig in hard enough to draw blood. She felt a warm trickle down her arms.

“Please don’t.” She gasped. She wasn’t on birth control; the last thing on her mind in the past weeks was sex.

“Your mouth says no but your cunt says yes. You are dripping, _возлюбленный_.” He wrapped his hand around the base of her skull, holding her still as he sunk himself into her one last time. He came nearly silently, clenching his teeth as he stilled inside of her. He stayed there for far too long, Jill counted fourty-five seconds before she hissed at him to get off of her. He bit into her shoulder again before he retreated, drawing out slowly. He watched some of his seed drip out of her and onto the leather jacket below her.

He sneered, releasing his grip on the handcuffs on her wrist. He tucked himself away, zipping his pants back up. His hand disappeared into his pocket, pulling out the small metal keys to release her. Instead of unlocking the cuffs, he tossed them over his shoulder. They landed somewhere behind him and bounced off of metal before landing on the floor.

“Self-Preservation, Valentine.” He hummed low with a smile. “I trust I will cross paths with you again.” And with that, he was gone, slipping out of the door and closing it behind him.

It took her a few moments before she had the wherewithal to climb to her feet and begin to look for the key. She found it resting just in front of Barry’s desk and gave a sigh of relief, using her fingers to scoop it into her hand.

As soon as her wrists were free, she dug her fingers into herself, scooping out as much of _him_ as she could, splattering it on the ground with distaste burning in her eyes. She was going to make him pay for this.


End file.
